Goodnight, Nymphadora
by Sparklystuff
Summary: A crucial evening in the recent life of Nymphadora Tonks, in which Tonks embarrasses herself, Remus is polite, and Sirius is drunk. Or at least, that's how she tells it. T for strong language & adult situations.


**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter _is not mine. If it did belong to me, Voldemort would have been killed off in the first book and the rest of the story would be a giant six-book-long margarita party. However, HP belongs to JK Rowling, so I must confine the liquor to fanfiction, which I can make no money off of to buy liquor of my own. _Sob!_

Rated M for four-letter words and dirty conversation. (Now I have your attention!)

* * *

**Goodnight, Nymphadora**

Last night, I had my first meeting as an official member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Today, I have a splitting headache thanks to a raging hangover.

Albus Dumbledore is exactly the same as he was back in my Hogwarts days; he hasn't changed a bit. Neither has Severus Snape, whom I had previously heard was a member but didn't actually believe it until I saw his dark, greasy figure in the room. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: that man desperately needs a good shag. (Not with me, though.)

Bill and Charlie Weasley were there too…ahh, _Charlie._ I hadn't talked to him since I dumped him on graduation day. (He wanted to go chase after dragons; I wanted us to stay here and get married. He chose the dragons over me, and I chose to take his Hogwarts trunk and submerge it in the bottom of the lake.) No hard feelings now; it's been five years.

So while people were still mingling before the start of the meeting, I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"T-Tonks!" he stammered, his ears turning pink.

"Charlie," I replied. "I see your ears still do that thing when you get really nervous."

"You—you do still go by 'Tonks,' right?" he stammered some more. "Because if not, I can—I can call you 'Nymphadora,' or 'Dory,' or whatever it is you go by nowadays."

"It's still Tonks, and you need to relax. I'm not mad at you or anything. I just wanted to…I don't know." What was I talking to him for? "Just to see how you were doing, I guess. You know, since we're comrades together now. No need for any tension between us; we need to stay united against You-Know-Who." Big fake smile.

He seemed to loosen up a bit though, which in this case meant his ears turned back to the same color as the rest of his face and he stopped twitching. "Oh, yeah, of course. I'm doing all right. Life's gotten a little crazy since joining the Order—you'll find what that's like soon enough—but it's good, I suppose."

"Right. Good."

"Right. So, erm, you're an Auror then?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's fantastic. I remember you always talked about wanting to be an Auror. That's got to be some exciting work there."

"I'm still new—in their eyes, anyway—so really I just sit around and shuffle paperwork," I shrugged. I told him how I jumped at the chance to join the Order when I overheard Kingsley saying they needed more members.

"Right."

"Yeah."

Silence. We both glanced around the kitchen as the silence grew and grew. For Merlin's sake, we used to be able to stay up all night talking as teenagers, and now we could barely make small talk.

"My underpants don't smell like the giant squid anymore," Charlie blurted out. (Actually, at first I thought I had said that, because normally it was I that said incredibly dumb things at the worst times. But then I realized that it was actually him, and that he was referring to our last encounter.)

"Ah. Well, that's good." I thought for a minute. "Wait, you mean you still have those? You haven't bought new underwear since seventh year?" I am an Auror, trained to notice such details.

Charlie's ears were turning pink again. "Errr…that came out wrong…I didn't actually mean…"

The sound of Dumbledore calling the meeting to order was music to my ears (and probably Charlie's pink ones as well).

"Wellitwasreallygoodseeingyouagain—"

"Yeahsamehere—"

With that, we both practically Apparated to chairs as far apart from one another as possible.

The meeting began, and I ought to have been paying attention, but instead I found myself looking at Sirius. Poor Sirius. Twelve years in Azkaban and another two years on the run have left him constantly shifty-eyed. You can tell he's always subconsciously checking for an escape route, and making sure he's aware of his surroundings in case a Dementor suddenly decides to pop out at him. Quite sad, really. Another one in desperate need of a good shag.

Sitting next to Sirius was someone I didn't know. He had brown hair that was falling into his eyes, a scar running along the side of his cheek, and was wearing a _hideous_ tweed cloak that was patched, tatty, and at least a size too big for his skinny frame. His eyes were fixed on Dumbledore, but the rest of him kept shifting in his seat.

I glanced around at the other Order members to see whom else I recognized. Kingsley…Emmeline Vance… Mundungus Fletcher. Yeccchhh. He was looking at me with his beady little eyes, and I got the feeling that he was imagining me naked.

Until I noticed everyone else in the room was staring at me too.

"Nymphadora?" It was Dumbledore. "I was just wondering if you'd like to introduce yourself, as you are the newest member of our group." His eyes were doing the patented Dumbledore Twinkle of Amusement.

"Erm, sure." I slowly rose out of my chair. I have always hated making speeches in front of people. My brain is allergic to such things; it freezes up and then vomits stupidity. Damn you, Dumbledore, you twisted old wizard.

I stared at the table. "Erm…hello. My name is Nymphadora Tonks. I'm twenty-two. I'm from London. I'm an Auror, and I'm quite excited to work with you all." I found the courage to glance up. Kingsley, my fabulous boss, was giving me encouraging looks. Oddly, so was Tweed Cloak.

"Erm…well, I already know some of you, and then there's a bunch of you I don't know." My eyes involuntarily moved to Tweed Cloak, who seemed to be giving me the faintest hint of a smile. "But…erm…as my mum always said…erm...a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet." Oh, could I have sounded any more like a naïve schoolgirl? The entire Order was staring at me. _Do not panic,_ I ordered myself.

I panicked. "Uhhhh…except for Death Eaters! Death Eaters are definitely strangers we do not want to be friends with. Ever. Which is why we are all here. Or at least why I am here. To fight Death Eaters. And Voldemort." Brain _voooomit_.

I strained to keep my hair from turning as red as my face. Across the room, Charlie was turning red, probably embarrassed that he ever had anything to do with such a person. Over on my end of the kitchen, Sirius was whispering something to Tweed Cloak, probably denying that he is any relation to me. Snape had a look that I knew very well, the one that said _A thousand points from Gryffindor just for your pathetic existence, Miss Tonks!_

I started to sit back down, but then remembered something of vital importance and quickly stood back up again, of course knocking over my chair in the process. "Oh, forgot to mention—you can just call me Tonks. That's what I go by. Tonks. Ignore the ridiculous first name. Thanks."

The rest of the meeting went by smoothly; it was mostly just scheduling shifts for guard duty next week. When finally dismissed, I ran and hid in the loo until I was fairly certain everyone had left. Then I climbed out, tiptoed past Mrs. Black's portrait (I'd already had the pleasure of meeting her earlier in the evening), and was almost to the door when Sirius intercepted me.

"Tonksie!" he crowed, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, clutching an open bottle of wine. "There you are! Everyone was asking me about you. I think you made a fantastic impression this evening."

I mumbled something and tried to get past, but the six-foot drunken sod wouldn't let me.

"Don't leave," he whined. "Come and have a drink with me and Moony."

_"Who?"_

"Moony—Re—oh fuck it, I knew you weren't paying attention when Dum-Dum introduced everyone. Come on, I'll give you a proper introduction."

I told him I was tired, and it had been a long day, and I'd just had an experience only slightly less embarrassing than my first day of Auror Training. He ignored me and started yanking me toward the kitchen. Poor lonely man, so desperate for company he is now forced to kidnap young, blabbering Aurors.

"Who's Moony?" I demanded, while trying to wrangle out of his grasp. "Is that his real name? Or does he like to moon people or something?"

"Gods, no," Sirius replied, "_I_ was the expert at _that._ Except instead of exposing my own arse, I used Snivelly's."

I decided I was better off not inquiring.

"Damn waste though, in retrospect," he slurred. "_My_ arse is so much more deserving of attention."

We got to the kitchen and Sirius finally let go. "Ah, Moony!" he cried. "Look what I found!"

Sitting at the table was none other than Tweed Cloak, only he had mercifully removed the worn cloak and was now just clad in a still old, but much more flattering jumper. He immediately stood up and started to introduce himself, but Sirius interrupted.

"Right then!" He swayed a bit, then pointed at Remus. "This here is my very old friend Nymphadora Tonks"—he then pointed at me—"and this here is my not-so-old cousin Remus Lupin. And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go take a piss." He stumbled away, wine bottle still clutched in his hand.

"Wotcher," I said, shaking Twee—err, Lupin's hand, "I guess that's not an introduction you get every day."

He smiled, and I took a really good look at him. His hair was greying in some spots, and he had those mysterious scars, but he didn't have any wrinkles. He had the look of a boy who had been forced to grow up much too quickly.

We stood there and stared at each other for a short while, in that uncomfortable silence that occurs when you're stuck trying to make small talk with someone you've just met.

"So."

"So."

I smiled.

He cleared his throat. "Well, we were just having some wine…I'm sure I can scrounge up a…erm…an extra goblet, assuming Kreacher hasn't hoarded them all already."

"And, assuming that Sirius hasn't drank all the wine already," I added.

"Oh, don't worry," Lupin reassured me, "there's a very large collection of wine in this house, far more than even Sirius could finish in a night—and that's saying something." He grinned widely, and it made him look ten years younger. He walked back over to the table and picked up one of several bottles lined up on it.

Just then, Sirius made his way back into the kitchen, suddenly shirtless, his wine bottle sticking out of his trousers. "Bloody fantastic!" he shouted randomly, and threw his nub of a cigarette into the cupboard where Kreacher slept.

"Sirius, what happened to your shirt?" Remus asked, concerned.

Sirius looked down at his bare chest. "Aw, fuck, I knew I'd lost something on the way." I couldn't help but laugh. Sirius pointed at me. "Why isn't Tonksie drinking? Where's her bloody drink?"

A look passed between them, and Sirius replied, "Goddamnit, Moony, you fucking helpless wanker."

Before I knew it, Sirius was pressing a Black Family Goblin-Wrought Silver Goblet overflowing with Black Family Elf-Made Wine into my hands, and the three of us were sitting at the kitchen table.

"I propossse a toast," Sirius slurred. "To friends…and…long losht family members…and….and other happy shite."

"Well put," Lupin responded with mock gravity.

"Cheers," I said. I hoisted back my goblet, Sirius threw his goblet back as if it were a shot, and Lupin…was drinking out of a mug.

I nearly choked on my wine.

"I'm sorry, but why the hell are you drinking _wine_ out of a ceramic _mug_?"

"Because," Sirius answered, rolling his eyes, "he's _Mooooooooooooooony_," as if that explained everything. He then made some sort of facial expression and movement that resembled a constipated animal climbing a wall or something.

I glanced at Lupin, who was giving Sirius looks of death. I glanced back at Sirius, who was nodding at Lupin and looked like he was about to fall over. I glanced back at Lupin again, who was now looking at me most apologetically.

"Don't worry about him," I said casually, jerking my thumb in Sirius' direction. "I don't reckon he's going to be lucid much longer."

"Erm," Lupin replied quietly, "more wine, Nymphadora?"

Hearing that embarrassing name always sends a jolt down my spine, and I stood up straight. "It's Tonks, if you please," I answered tartly.

"Oh, yes….right," he stammered. "So sorry." He was actually blushing. Something had definitely shaken him, but for the life of me I didn't know what.

"So," I asked, pouring myself more wine and trying to make fresh conversation, "tell me, what's it really like, being a—"

"—werewolf?" he supplied.

This time I really did choke on my wine. Meanwhile, Sirius slapped his palm to his forehead and groaned loudly.

"I was actually going to say, _being a member of the Order,_" I said, gasping for breath, "but—but all right, we can start with that. You—_what?_"

I shook my head in disbelief. There was no possible way this mild-mannered, somewhat handsome-looking, tweed-wearing professor-type was actually a bloodthirsty werewolf. It was like finding out my little old gran was actually a Death Eater.

Oh wait, she was. Bad example.

I finally pointed at him and Sirius, and smirked, thinking I understood. "I get it. You're teasing me. You thought, 'Hey, she looks young and gullible, let's get her schnockered and tell her some wild tale about how Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and she'll believe it.' Well, piss off. I'm on to you lot."

But Sirius' palm still hadn't left his face, and Remus Lupin was regarding me with a slight smile. "Believe me," he said, "you have no idea how much I wish I were joking."

It was when I saw the sadness in his eyes that the smirk began to slide off my face. Suddenly everything made sense. The scars. The ill-fitting, tatty clothes. The fact that he couldn't touch a silver goblet. Sirius' drunken attempt at imitating a werewolf. (A rather constipated werewolf, I still say.) _Moony_.

Goddamnit. I am an Auror, trained to notice such things. Why did it take me so long?

"You're serious, aren't you," I finally said slowly.

"No," interjected Sirius, "_I'm_ Sirius. _He's_ a werewolf."

I ignored him and just looked at Lupin in utter shock.

_Thunk._ Sirius had passed out. Drama queen.

"Well," Lupin said quietly, "I guess I ought to go."

"No!" I cried, stopping him from getting up. "Please, don't feel like you have to leave. It's just—well, I've never met a real werewolf before. I've only read about them in case studies and those werewolves sound nothing like you, and so I was just…surprised. And is it true that werewolves crave chocolate? What's it feel like when you transform? Why do werewolves tend to bite children? Is it true blue moons make werewolves horny?"

He turned bright red.

"Oh, bloody hell," I said, also blushing. "I'm so sorry…I suffer from incurable brain vomit. Please, just forget I said anything, it's none of my business—" I stood up to leave.

"Actually," he said, starting to smile, "I don't mind at all. You don't know how many people just look at me with disgust, and believe whatever lies other people tell them about werewolves rather than just asking me. But I think you might have an idea what that's like, being a Metamorphmagus."

My jaw dropped. "How did you—I never said anything about—"

"Well," he replied, almost shyly, "to start with, your hair's changed color several times in the last few minutes."

"Oh." My hand automatically reached up to inspect what color it was at the present time. Bright red. Of course. "Yeah, it has a tendency to do that when I'm feeling emotional and forget to control it," I mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

Lupin must have picked up on it, because he suddenly said, "Oh, pardon my comments, I'm making you uncomfortable."

"_You're_ making _me_ uncomfortable?" I said. "Rubbish! I'm the one making the stupid comments." I smiled and lightly touched his arm as I said it, and he looked down at my fingers with wide eyes, as if unused to people giving him a friendly pat.

Oh wait. He probably was.

He kept staring at my hand, and I self-consciously removed it. "I guess we've learned a bit more about each other than we really expected," I finally said.

Our eyes met for a few seconds, until Sirius let out a loud snore and I nervously chugged an entire gobletful of wine.

Lupin's hands were fidgeting with the mug. It was then that I took a good look at it and, in my tipsiness, started giggling uncontrollably. He began to fidget even more, but that just made me giggle harder.

"I'm not laughing at you," I tried to explain when he looked at me, "I'm laughing at the mug." I pointed at it, right where it said in large lettering:

**ONCE YOU GO BLACK, YOU NEVER GO BACK!**

It had obviously been purchased from some Muggle store.

He let out a hint of a smile when he realized what I was laughing at. "Yeah, Sirius bought this one summer when we were teenagers."

Right on cue, Sirius let out another loud snore.

I was still giggling like the intoxicated idiot I was, but then suddenly Lupin started laughing too, and I couldn't help but gaze at the way his face completely lit up when he laughed.

"You should laugh more often," I said rather too enthusiastically. "If you smiled more, and shaved off that ridiculous mustache or whatever that thing's supposed to be above your lips, you wouldn't be half-bad-looking. Might even score yourself a date." Oh sodding Muggle Christ, the alcohol was taking over my brain. _What_ was I saying?

He just stared at me, blinking. "Well…I appreciate your honesty."

"Where's all my wine gone! What were we talking about? Why is there a bottle down my trousers?" Sirius was awake again.

I welcomed the distraction, and I think Lupin did too because he got up and started to practically carry Sirius out of the kitchen, saying, "Think it's time for bed, Sirius."

"Moooooony," Sirius slurred, "You are a damn sexy bitch but you know I don't swing that way!"

Lupin groaned. "I meant, it's time for you to go to sleep. _Alone,_ you drunk prat." He had Sirius slung over his shoulder at this point. Meanwhile, I was already well into another good giggle fit.

"You're such a wanker," babbled Sirius. "Oh look, I can see your arse from here. No, mine's still more impressive."

Lupin told me he would be back shortly, and he was.

"Sirius all situated in bed now, yeah?" I asked after he walked back into the kitchen. I had been amusing myself by rifling through cabinets to see if there were any more old mugs with witty sayings on them. I never found any. I was also glad to notice my hair was a nice bright violet.

"Oh, he passed out again before we were even halfway up the stairs."

"You carried him all the way upstairs?" I asked, amazed. "Werewolves really are stronger than they look. That's kind of hot."

He blushed, and I decided I should just do everyone a favor and go flush myself down the toilet once and for all. Seriously, what was I thinking? I never lusted after older men, and I had long ago made a rule with myself that anyone old enough to clearly remember the first Voldy War was too old for me to shag.

Not to mention, I sure as hell never lusted after anyone who would wear tweed.

Four hours and six gobletfuls and eleven mugfuls of wine later, we were still in the kitchen, incredibly drunk and laughing hysterically.

"So," I slurred, "I looked at Charlie and I said, 'What have the dragons got that I ain't got?' And do you know what that small-dicked elf-fucker said? He says, 'Well, I don't know, but at least dragons shut up once in a while!'" We had spent those last four hours sharing life stories; he had already told me about his times with the Marauders, and I was now recounting my great romance with Charlie Weasley.

"He did not say that to you!" exclaimed Moony. (In my drunken state, I had taken to calling him by his Marauder name. Also due to my drunken state, I was seeing two of him, so it was more like The Moonies.)

"He did. But you know what I did?" I said, now drinking straight from the bottle. "Molly didn't know we had broken up yet, so I went and told her not to bring his trunk down from Gryffindor Tower; that I would do it. And I did. I brought it down…down to the bottom of the lake. Small underpants and all. Apparently it took him, Arthur, Bill, and Percy several hours to rescue the trunk out of the water, as the Squid had taken quite a liking to it."

"You're a dangerous woman, Tonks," he replied, eyebrows raised. "I pity anyone who crosses you."

"Nah," I said. "I'm only dangerous when it comes to cooking." Evil grin. And then, without thinking about how potentially scarring this question could be to a middle-aged werewolf, I asked, "So, have _you_ ever thought about, you know, settling down and getting married? Having kids?"

He looked completely caught off guard. In my head I desperately tried to word together some sort of apology, as I watched him bypass the mug and take a drink straight from the bottle. Finally, he swallowed, put the bottle down, and said calmly, "No, I don't think about it. I realized a long time ago that I could only marry someone who was in their right mind, and as any woman who would want to marry a werewolf could not _possibly_ be in her right mind, I shall never marry." He grinned.

I felt awful. I also desperately needed to pee by then, so I stood up. He stood up too, though swaying a bit.

"I'm just going to the loo," I said.

"It's proper that a man stand up whenever a lady does," he replied softly.

I could feel myself blushing scarlet. "You're delusional. Look at me, I'm no lady," I protested, letting out a laugh. "Really, what kind of lady calls someone an elf-fucker and throws their things in a lake?" Or makes thoughtless remarks about marriage?

Though wobbling a bit, he walked around to my side of the table and frowned at me. "No, you're wrong. Don't sell yourself so short."

I slowly realized that he was standing very close, so close that I only saw one of him again. I don't know if it was just because I was drunk, but he smelled nice. I mean really, really nice. Musky and spicy and not at all what a werewolf or were-anything should smell like.

I started to take a step away toward the door, but the room was swaying and I stumbled. Lupin caught on to my waist while I instinctively grabbed at his clothes to keep from falling. He quickly righted me back up, but he still had my waist and I was still clutching his jumper.

"My knight in shining armor," I giggled.

His face was now only inches from mine and I could easily smell the wine on his breath. Did I want to kiss him? Did he want to kiss me? Did it really matter? Everything was hazy.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," an unmistakable voice sneered.

We turned to see Severus sodding Snape standing in the doorway, a look of absolute disgust on his face. We sobered up immediately, as Snape has that kind of effect on you.

"No, Severus," Lupin replied with that calmness that I was starting to envy, "I was merely helping Tonks get steady on her feet."

Snape laughed derisively.

"I'm going to the loo," I mumbled, and stumbled off.

When I came back, Snape was gone, and Lupin looked angry.

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing important," Lupin replied, and quickly replaced his angry scowl with an expressionless face.

"Well, what did he want?" I demanded. What I really wanted to ask was, _Why the fuck was Snape down here at five in the bloody morning, leaving me to never know if I was going to get snogged or not?_

"He brews Wolfsbane potion for me," he finally stated. "He was just letting me know that this month's batch would be ready soon."

I stared at him. There had obviously been far more to it than that. "Then why did you look like an owl just shat in your pants when I walked in?"

"It's nothing important," he said again. "Just Snape being…Snape."

"Fine," I sighed. "I'm going home."

"You shouldn't Apparate while under the influence," Lupin pointed out, concern flashing across his features.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I said, yawning. "There's a somewhat comfortable-looking sofa in the drawing room, I'll just crash there."

"Nonsense," Lupin replied, "You can sleep in my bed." He then added hastily—a bit _too_ hastily, in my opinion—"And I'll take the sofa, of course."

I looked at him. "Why do you have to be so damn chivalrous? I'm not used to it," I admitted, blushing yet again.

He didn't say anything, he merely smiled. I shook my head and began to walk out the door.

"By the way," his voice floated after me, "the answers are: _no_; _shit_; _I have absolutely no idea_; and _yes_."

"What in the world are you talking about?" I asked, turning back around to face him.

"Earlier. You asked, it true that werewolves crave chocolate; what's it feel like when I transform; why do werewolves tend to bite children; and is it true blue moons make werewolves horny. Those were the answers. In order."

"No; shit; you have absolutely no idea, and…_yes_?" I repeated slowly. My eyes had to be the size of quaffles.

He smiled nonchalantly and started clearing the table.

"You're teasing me," I said.

"Perhaps."

I was speechless.

"Good night, Nymphadora."

"Piss off, Lupin."

"I think we're off to a great start."

When I slowly began to wake up this afternoon, I couldn't stop wondering why my head was pounding so hard, or why my bed smelled like a cross between doxy repellent and the most wonderful spicy musk.

It wasn't until I opened my eyes that I remembered everything, and smiled.


End file.
